


Bloody Knives

by octobersmog



Category: Saints Row
Genre: AU, Fantasy AU, Saints Row - Freeform, just something that randomly hit me an hour ago and im now obssessed with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 18:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octobersmog/pseuds/octobersmog
Summary: "Darling," she cooed. "Come now, and let me out. You know I wouldn't hurt you."Lies.





	Bloody Knives

He stood, back straight, against the wall, hands clenched together in front of him. In vain, he tried desperately to block out the lilting, accented voice floating from the door in front of him. Pale white hands danced along the bars in the door, idly stroking the cold metal.

"Darling," she cooed. "Come now, and let me out. You know I wouldn't hurt you."

_Lies._

He'd seen the horrific seen in the alley they'd caught her in. Blood and flecks of bone had splattered the already filthy wall. There hadn't even been a body left to salvage. It was no surprise really that he'd had to retreat to the street and vomit in the gutter.

She'd been smiling when they'd hauled her, hands bound with rope, into the back of the prison wagon. Then she'd started laughing; and that alone was the most terrifying thing he'd ever thought. The most violent things he'd ever dealt with was drunkards careening through the streets, shouting profanities. He supposed he was bound to deal with a murderer at least once in his career as a guard, but this was not what he'd expected. When he thought of a murderer, he thought of a big, brunt man wielding a butchers knife, not a petite woman with unsettlingly bright blue hair.2

The hands had disappeared. Her face now leered out at him, her eyes so dark they were nearly black. He looked away.

Her tinkling laugh reached his ears.

"It's rude to ignore a lady," she breathed. "Especially one such as myself."

He closed his eyes, trying to block out her voice.

"Hmm, not very interested, I see." He could almost hear her grin.

"Perhaps," she mused. "You prefer men?"

His eyes popped open. "No! I most certainly do not!" he almost shouted.

"Oh? Then what do you prefer, my dear?"

He'd broken the very first rule that was drummed into a guard: 

_Never speak to a prisoner; unless its to hurl abuse at them._

The last part was heavily favoured by his fellow guards, who could quite happily spend entire shift in the dungeons, mocking the prisoners through the bars, regardless of their crime.

He quickly snapped his head to the side again, eyes closed. She spoke again.

"A shy one, aren't we?"

After a few minutes, he dared a glance back at the door. The hands had resumed their strange dance across the bars, amid the strange, lilting song she began to sing. He shuddered.

When the next guard descended into the dungeons to take his shift, he nearly sprinted up the stairs, racing for the nearest tavern.


End file.
